Magical Mystery Tour

Looking back on last week (from Thursday to Monday) you can't help but think that brain cancer needs to lay off the crack pipe and speed, for real.

Let's backtrack. 

Frayed Nerves, Take One:  

The rents came home Wednesday evening from a week long stint in Michigan. Over the trip, we noted that the Hickman line miiiiight have been infected. There was a little puckering/redness on the surface to which we applied antibacterial ointment as a holdover until she could show her "medical team". (couldn't help the quotes. hahaha).

By Thursday afternoon/evening, she was in the ER. Profile of shakes, fever of 104, vomiting, and extreme fatigue was a familiar ticket in. Diane said she barely was able to get her to the hospital before our mom lost all strength. They admitted her to a room. Her white blood count had dropped precipitously, pointing the finger at the junkie---big bad blood infection---and her dealer---the Hickman catheter---as likely culprits.

At 11:24 that night, I received a text that read "blood pressure dropped to 50, E. She's septic. They're transferring her to the ICU". I got Jill and Diane on conference call to learn that the medical care had to use a doppler to find our mom's pulse; she had lost all color from her face and somehow they inverted her ???? I'm still lost on that one but only supports the magical mystery tour/this thing smacks of a bad carnival ride feeling.

The next day would confirm the gut feeling we all had that night--we averted a really close call.

Frayed Nerves, Take Two:

The next day, our mom was slowly improving. Crisis number one averted. Evidently, crackhead cancer needed another fix, and gave us crisis number two in the form of a drive-by "the tumor is growing, catchya lata" moment. A member of mom's medical team informed her that her tumor was growing but didn't supply any other information to either 1) corroborate the statement or 2) ease nerves after providing news that the best treatment protocol for her GBM might not be working. Essentially, as a friend would say, he just took a dump on the floor and left. Somebody call the cleanup crew--the daughters sprung into action!!

I called the other team overseeing our mom's care, diane faxed the MRI (welllll, dad did since diane clearly needs training wheels!!), jill continued researching sepsis and managed craig--ever important during these high stress times. The hurry up and wait game was painful and unnerving. What was also painful and unnerving was counting the "i don't know, probably, could be, i thinks" in a conversation with poop on the floor medical team member. Didn't inspire much confidence, needless to say.

All of a sudden we had averted a life and death crisis (Thursday) to be faced with the real possibility that our options were dwindling and that the road ahead that we know is out there waiting for us to travel on is getting closer, and sooner than we'd hoped.

Frayed Nerves, Take Three:

Today is Monday, the day the other care team would have an opportunity to evaluate mom's latest MRI's. The word on the street: no tumor enhancement. Stupid say what? I'm quite surprised the daughters and/or our dad didn't stroke out from all of this. Yes, the MRI shows that there is a non-enhancement flare which COULD be indication of slight tumor growth or it COULD be indication that her treatment is doing exactly what it should be doing. Crossroads, seem to come and gooooo. (anyone? anyone?  the Allman Brothers Band song--Melissa.) So, what to dooo? We wait and keep up with the Avastin/CPT-11.

So, from a critical day, to a critical weekend/week, to now a critical month. The doctors say the month ahead will be critical for us as we determine if the flare is in fact tumor or swelling from treatment. That's hopeful!! Sure beats "the tumor is growing" right out of the gate.

There's a distinct feeling that we've had one helluva game of dodgeball this week, and folks were throwing wrenches! Whatever is ahead--tumor flare or radiation flare--we'll meet each new day with the hope and fight we've shown for more than 8 months.

~E